


What Makes An Apology

by play_your_tambourine



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Angst, Dialogue Heavy, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, One Shot, Swearing, implied emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/play_your_tambourine/pseuds/play_your_tambourine
Summary: One Shot. Anatole cannot stand fighting with Helene, but can't stand being wrong even more.
Relationships: Fyodor "Fedya" Ivanovich Dolokhov/Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin, Marya Dmitryevna Akhrosimova/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	What Makes An Apology

**Author's Note:**

> This deals a lot with forcing someone out of the closet, so please read with care!
> 
> Am I projecting? Mayb-Absolutely.

"Go away," Helene grumbled, crossing her arms and swinging her legs over the other side of the bed, opting to face the window instead of the blonde in her doorway. 

"I said I was sorry," The younger sibling of the pair offered in a whine. 

"Get out of my room," Helene's voice completely level. She didn't sound upset, but she never really did, and the finality in her direction gave enough indication to what her inflection lacked. Anatole sighed purposefully loud.

"Come on, Elena. I-"

"Don't call me that."

Anatole paused, leaning against the doorframe and studying her silhouette. Her shoulders were slumped down and forward, the exact opposite of what always seemed to come naturally to her. The rising and falling of her chest was at least normal; she wasn't crying, so it couldn't be that bad. Anatole had never seen his sister cry, so if she did perhaps he'd take full blame. But she had to know he wouldn't--couldn't--lie to their mother. 

"Why are you still here? I didn't hear footsteps," His sister spoke, letting the atmosphere thicken with tension. She knew her brother, and knew Anatole couldn't stand any amount of weight in a room before taking off. Mother to father, father to child, mother to daughter: it was all the same in the sense that Anatole was gone the second it began. Even the smallest amount of uneasiness and the boy would be running to his room or finding an excuse to escape through the front door. For someone so conflict averse, he was really taking his sweet time leaving her alone. She was both frustrated and surprised he'd lasted this long, even As Anatole's eyes moved down to his feet. 

“Technically, I’m not in your room,” He protested childishly, smirking triumphantly as his older sister groaned. 

“Then get out of the  _ vicinity  _ of my room,” 

“Why are you being like this? I said I was sorry!” Anatole cried out, throwing his hands in the air.

“Did you actually just ask that?” Helene scoffed, still never turning to face him, but now staring up towards the ceiling.

“You’re being mean about it!”

“Because I know you, and I know you aren’t sorry for any reason other than the fact I'm upset,” There was a distinct sharpness to her voice, one that warned Antole he was on thin ice, and one that he ignored. 

“Well, yes, that’s kind of what apologies are…” Anatole trailed off dubiously. The boy watched as his sister places one hand behind her, lifting her knee onto the bed to turn and look at him.

“No, you fucking dumbass. An apology is given when you  _ regret what you did, _ ” She snapped. 

“Okay, you don’t need to swear at me,” Anatole pointed accusingly at her, taking a step into the room. 

“Get Out Of My Room, Anatole!” Helene’s voice rose, irritation and venom laced so deeply into it that Anatole immediately took a step back. The occasion of her yelling was rare enough as it was, so it being directed at him immediately made his heart still in his chest as their eyes locked. “I have covered for you so many times,” She growled, watching the blonde frantically avert his eyes.

“I never asked you to do that!” He defended himself with a wail. 

“Right, and what would you do if I didn’t, hm?” Anatole swallowed, still not looking at her as she continued. “I didn’t think I’d need to be asked- Christ Anatole, sorry I just  _ assumed  _ you like to be happy!” Helene bit out. “Sorry that I know how happy he makes you, and-”

“Don’t say it so loud!” He hissed, checking back over his shoulder and into the hallway. 

“Or what?! Mom and Dad will find out?!” Helene was full on screaming now, moving her arms about dramatically, “A fucking tragedy!” 

“Helene!” Anatole cried out like a wounded animal, watching with wide eyes and shaking hands as Helene stopped, but her glare felt like a searing knife being twisted into him. “Can you please stop cursing at me, please?” 

“Or what? You’ll tell Aline?” Helene mocked, clenching her comforter in her fist. “What more could she even do? What, put me under room arrest? Kill me? At this point she’s already done the worst,”

Anatole threw back his head and sighed, “Don’t say that,” Helene rose her brows challengingly, beginning to rise to her feet. “It’s not the end of-”

“Oh, oh, I’m  _ sorry,  _ do you want me to go tell Vasily about your boyfriend, hm? Tell him about your less than Catholic tendencies so you can  _ demonstrate  _ how  _ calm  _ I should be?” Anatole opened his mouth to protest, but words rushed out of his sister’s mouth, taking a few daunting steps closer to him, “I mean, I’m clearly not the model child for not selling you out, so why don’t you show me how calm I should be when I’m excommunicated from my girlfriend,”

“Helene it’s not forever,” Anatole tried to calm her down, but it didn’t seem that Helene was taking to it well or at all.

“My relationship’s demise is! Do you not understand that?!” Helene couldn’t stop her voice from climbing; at this point, she didn’t see much left for her to lose. Her privacy, joy, and sanity left the moment Marya’s name left Anatole’s mouth that evening. “I never even got to tell her what was going on! I actually care about you, for some godforsaken reason, so I’m not going to  _ ruin your goddamn life,  _ but you don’t even-I can’t-you absolute disa-” A breath. “-You know what, Anatole?” Her voice was suddenly calm again, and Anatole had never wanted to hear her sound as enraged as she was until that moment. 

“What?” He asked, despite already being wary of her answer. Helene took a deep breath, walking up to her brother with long, drawn out strides. Her arm rested against the edge of her bedroom door just above her head. Anatole didn’t feel like he could breathe for a moment. 

“I think the worst part of this whole ‘grounded thing’ you know, aside from losing the possible love of my life, is the fact that if I ever get so painfully bored, and start to go crazy, the option for talking is you,” With that, the door slammed hard in his face, sound resounding through their entire house. One that suddenly felt a whole lot colder. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I am considering making this a three-part one shot series, one where Anatole is talking with his boyfriend (Fedya0 about the event, and one where he is trying to reconcile with Marya. Please let me know if this interests any of you!! Feedback is VERY appreciated :) !!


End file.
